At the jar of the carriage, as it turned from the paved high-road into the faubourg Saint-Jean, the lady put her head out of the window; then she drew it back with an expression of pain as she saw the high walls that surrounded the convent, and the gloomy portal which gave entrance to it.
The postilion dismounted, and going, to the door of the carriage said:--
"This is the place."
The lady pressed the hand of her husband, who was seated opposite to her, while two large tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Go, Mary, and take courage," said the young man, in whom our readers will recognize Baron Michel de la Logerie. "I regret that the convent rules will not let me share this duty with you. It is the first time in ten years we have suffered apart."
"You will speak to her of me, will you not?" said the old peasant.
"Yes, my Jean," answered Mary.
The young woman sprang from the carriage and knocked at the gate. The sound of the knocker gave a funeral note, which echoed through the vaulted portal.
"Mère Sainte-Marthe?" said the lady when her summons was answered.
"Are you the person our mother is expecting?" asked the Carmelite.